Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Bolivia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing U.S. Maple to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Jacob Miller tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Dead Boys,
Unwound,
Fugazi,
EPMD,
MDC,
Grey Daturas,
Lindisfarne,
8 Eyed Spy,
the Slits,
Amon Düül,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Al Stewart,
Dark Day,
Joyce Sims,
Kurtis Blow,
Funkadelic,
Circle Jerks,
Gerry Rafferty,
Black Sheep,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Stetsasonic,
Model 500,
The Techniques,
Ossler,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gang Starr,
Bob Dylan,
Zero Boys,
Sandy B,
Idris Muhammad,
The Fugs,
Agent Orange,
Michelle Simonal,
The Trojans,
The Searchers,
The Residents,
The Skatalites,
Susan Cadogan,
The Evens,
Q and Not U,
Scratch Acid,
Heaven 17,
The Beau Brummels,
Simply Red,
Absolute Body Control,
Jacques Brel,
Arthur Verocai,
Eric Dolphy,
The Raincoats,
Ponytail,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Moody Blues,
Kerri Chandler,
Rites of Spring,
Slave,
Robert Hood,
Buzzcocks,
Black Moon,
Crispian St. Peters,
Con Funk Shun,
Kenny Larkin,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.